


Practice Makes Perfect

by dementorsatemysoup



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Cad Just Wants To Help, Caleb Deserves Nice Things, Cooking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Support Firbolg Cad, Episode 49 Spoilers, Even If He Doesn't Believe it, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 16:48:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17584595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dementorsatemysoup/pseuds/dementorsatemysoup
Summary: Cooking can be very therapeutic.





	Practice Makes Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy :)
> 
> Drop me a comment if you'd like and thanks for reading.

Caleb froze when Caduceus pulled him into a hug. He hadn’t been expecting this when he decided to repeat everything he’d told the others to Caduceus. In retrospect, he probably should have; his firbolg friend didn’t seem like the type to hold someone’s past against them.

“I wish I could take away your pain, Mister Caleb,” Caduceus said softly, resting his chin on top of Caleb’s head.

“It’s my pain to bear, Caduceus,” Caleb murmured, awkwardly patting Caduceus’ arm. “But I appreciate the offer.”

Caduceus suddenly released Caleb, taking a step back, a thoughtful look on his pale face. “We should make soup?”

“Uh, we?”

“Yes, we.” He turned, heading towards his bag, calling over his shoulder, “Cooking is very therapeutic.”

With a dubious look, Caleb shrugged and slowly followed Caduceus, watching curiously as he dug around in his bag for a small pot and a burlap sack. He carried everything to the small fire they had set up, placing the pot on a makeshift platform he had built earlier.

He clicked his fingers and a jet of water filled the pot, stopping a few inches shy of the top. Leaving the water to boil, Caduceus dragged a cutting board out of his sack along with a silver knife and a handful of vegetables.

“My mother was never much of a cook,” Caduceus said softly, chopping carrots carefully into small pieces. “She was more of a gatherer. She knew about every plant in the woods surrounding our temple. Which we could eat; which to use for medicine; which to avoid. She tried to teach my sister, but Corin never wished to learn, so she taught me instead.”

He paused for a moment, tipping his freshly chopped carrots into a brown bowl he pulled from his bag. He moved onto to some celery and continued, “My father, however, he rarely needed a recipe to make anything. He spent more time throwing stuff into a pot and hoping it actually made something edible.” A fond smile appeared on Caduceus’ face. “It usually did, but there were a few times.”

He dumped the celery into the bowl with the carrots, removing a few small potatoes, and handed them and the knife to Caleb. He gestured to the cutting board, a silent offering, and leaned forward to check his water.

Caleb began peeling the potatoes carefully, trying to avoid slicing his fingers on the knife. While he worked, he curiously asked, “Your family? What will you do when you find them?”

Caduceus sat back on his hands, watching Caleb thoughtfully for a moment before shrugging and saying, “I haven’t really thought that far ahead yet. I’m still trying to figure out how to save my home.”

“If it helps-” Caleb trailed off, keeping his eyes locked on the potatoes. He cleared his throat, trying again. “If it helps, I am willing to aid you as best as I can; after we help Nott, of course.”

Caduceus tipped his head. “Of course.”

“Family-” The words got caught in Caleb’s throat, but he managed to force them out, “Family is important. And you deserve-” he chopped the potato too aggressively, cursing when the knife got caught in the wooden cutting board. “You deserve to find them,” Caleb finished, wrenching the knife free, hissing when he sliced his finger open.

“Oh dear.” Caduceus reached out, taking Caleb’s hand between his, and the familiar, golden warmth of healing magic filled Caleb; the wound closing before it could even shed blood.

“You should be more careful, Mister Caleb,” Caduceus said softly, still holding Caleb’s hand.

“Perhaps I should.” Caleb looked up into Caduceus’ eyes, giving him a pale smile. “I admit I am not much of a cook.”

“That’s fine.” Caduceus released his hand, picking the knife up and handing it back to Caleb. “Practice makes perfect.”

“Thank you,” Caleb said softly, taking the knife back. “For healing my hand.”

Caduceus was quiet for a long moment before he said, “I may not be able to take away your emotional pain, but I can help you with your physical pain. It’s the least I can do.” He smiled, checking his water again, and said, “Look at that; it’s boiling.”

“I guess it is.”

Caduceus dumped the already cut vegetables into the pan, along with a handful of herbs, adding the jagged pieces of potato Caleb had managed to cut last. He pulled a wooden spoon from his sack, stirring the contents around, softly humming to himself.

“For what it’s worth,” he started, adding a few more herbs. “You’re Caleb now. Bren is your past, the person you were forced to become, but Caleb is someone you built through your own volition. You’ve done a lot of good as Caleb, and I think you’re destined to do a lot more.” He looked up, meeting Caleb’s gaze, and the kindness in his eyes was so overwhelming that Caleb had to look away.

“Sometimes I’m not so sure,” Caleb muttered, returning his attention to the other, half-cut potato.

“Then we’ll be sure for you,” Caduceus replied poking at his soup with his spoon.

“You’re too kind to me.”

“Everyone deserves kindness until they’ve proven otherwise.” Caduceus moved his hand to the side, allowing Caleb to add more potatoes to the soup. He handed him a tomato and began stirring his soup again the moment Caleb took it. “You have yet to prove you don’t deserve it.”

“And…” Caleb stared at the tomato, turning it over in his hand. “And if I do,” he said in a small voice.

Caduceus reached out, squeezing his shoulder, and said, “I doubt you ever will.” He released Caleb, turning back to his soup, adding some more herbs. “At least not to me. Or to them.” He nodded towards their friends, scattered around their makeshift camp.

Nott paced frantically; full of nervous energy that had been building the closer they got to Yeza. Jester sat on the ground, doodling idly in her journal, talking animatedly to Beau who ran through some basic exercises. Fjord dozed against a wall with his arms crossed against his chest, soft snores making their way over to Caduceus and Caleb. Yasha sharpened her sword in the corner, but she looked up when she felt eyes on her, offering Caleb a sad smile.

They were his friends, and like it or not he cared too deeply for them to ever allow anything bad to happen to them. Too bad they wouldn’t listen when he tried to explain this to them.

“You might not believe it, but they love you. We all do.” Caduceus took the tomato and knife from Caleb, offering him a polite smile, and said, “I think I’ll finish up here. I’ll call when dinner is ready.”

Shakily, Caleb stood, brushing dirt off his coat. He gave Caduceus an awkward nod, fingers twitching at his side, and murmured, “Thank you for allowing me to cook with you.”

Caduceus beamed, his entire face lighting up, and said, “Anytime.”


End file.
